


Fly Anything

by Davechicken



Series: The Emperor and his Knight [18]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:58:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6946552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe wants to show Kylo his new love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fly Anything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetdameron](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/gifts).



Kylo gets the comm message - subtle as ever - and is intrigued. It’s short and coded in a way that just looks like a normal message, but which he knows is a request to meet his undercover lover after the ‘evening’ meal. (Time is relative, onboard a Star Destroyer that needs manning at all hours. It’s ‘evening’ for their synchronised shifts, and that’s all that matters.)

So he sneaks out. No… he walks with a purpose, and tries to radiate a sense of menace and ‘I should be here’ through the Force, even though he wonders why Poe is asking to meet him in particular. 

He gets to one of the quieter hangars, and lingers in the maintenance staff corridor, knowing Poe will find it harder to slip from other people at this point. Poe has been spending a lot of time with his training, recently, and Kylo’s been feeling a touch neglected. Not that Poe has much _choice_ in the matter, and if Kylo used his status as Snoke’s favoured pupil too much, it could make Poe’s progression through the Order’s ranks more difficult in resentment from his peers and underlings. Plus, it would paint a huge target on his back, and Kylo wants to avoid that at all costs. They’re both determined to get to a position of relative safety, and Kylo knows that when Poe is high enough up, their _affair de coeur_ won’t be an issue.

Maybe it wouldn’t, now. He’s not sure what the rules on fraternisation really are, and if it’s a _don’t ask, don’t tell_. Surely this many people can’t all be virgins, or jerking off in the ‘fresher? They don’t negate the libido (he and Poe are living proof of that) so Kylo really doesn’t know.

There’s male _and_ female troopers. They bunk them apart, but that wouldn’t stop those of a non-heterosexual leaning, and there’s always trysts in hidden places. 

He is not going to ask that Lieutenant who is supposedly his _liaison_. He doesn’t need a _liaison_. He needs Poe Dameron, but then he’d get less training done if they were allowed to be close enough to one another during the day, so…

He hears the low buzz of happy thoughts before he hears the footsteps, and he turns to see where it’s coming from. Poe rounds the corner, helmet similarly on, and - 

WAIT. Wait one minute…

“Poe?”  


“Yep.” The shorter man pulls himself up straight, and their visors lock. It’s impossible to really make eye-contact, and it’s weird.   


“You… you passed?”  


“You were ever in any doubt?”  


“No, just - I didn’t expect so soon!”   


“You’re looking at the First Order’s finest pilot,” Poe says, with a fist clapped to his shoulder, a nod of his covered head. “And I thought I’d show you my new baby.”  


His own TIE. Poe has wanted to be a pilot since forever. Admittedly he always wanted to be an X-Wing pilot, first, or maybe steal the _Fal–_ steal a freighter, but he’s warmed to the idea of a receptive and zippy model of starfighter. It’s such a distinctive ship, and Kylo knows the technical aspects only, but he knows enough to appreciate the difference.

A gloved, armoured hand finds a softer, leather hand. Poe pulls him out into the hangar, and Kylo (without being asked) makes sure no one looks their way. Pulls him to the ladders to one side, and they climb up two thirds of the way to one of the newer models. Kylo can’t see a single char marks on her dark hide, and he admires the symmetry and solidity of the design. Where an X-Wing is a jagged dagger threatening to stab, this… how do you even describe a TIE?

They fit better, together, for one. Latticed like a little net designed to honeycomb the sky. A small, ball of safety between two panels like blinds, like blinkers on a worried mount. No… Kylo doesn’t know, but he feels the vibrating energy from Poe as he shhhhhes open his ship, and then looks over his shoulder.

“You wanna come inside?”  


“You do realise they’ll know if you take it out…? I can’t cover over that.”  


“I know. But if we don’t go anywhere, I can show you her. Show you how beautiful she is…”  


Kylo smiles, his cheeks brushing the insides of his mask, and he nods. In they go, and the hatch seals them in. As the clickclunk of the seal sounds, a softer sound of helmet release echoes it, and there’s Poe, all perfectly messy hair and a huge grin. His hair is shorter than it used to be, but it’s still too wild to really be tamed down to short, and Kylo wishes it could be a **bit** longer, just so he could properly hold on when–

Okay, down, boner.

“What do you think?” 

Poe’s sitting in the pilot’s seat, and Kylo’s sitting sideways on in the gunner’s position. The Dark Jedi removes his own helmet, preferring to use his own two eyes when it’s Poe. It goes to the floor, and Kylo examines the ship from the inside. He’s only really been in shuttlecraft and larger, never needed to step into a starfighter. He can’t fly worth shit, after all, so what would be the point? He _can_ gun, but gunners are ten a credit, and his skillset is more… rare.   


“I think… it’s…” Something nice. Kylo runs a gloved thumb along shiny metal. “…it’s…”  


“ **Big** ,” Poe supplies.  


Big? His head almost grazes the roof! Although, he supposes in comparison to a one-man-and-his-droid X-Wing, this is palatial. He stretches his legs and they do slide a bit. It smells of new leather and ship-soap, that upholstery and metal polish scent that new ships have. He shoves his butt deeper into the seat, and puts his hands on the controls, finding them reasonably well placed. 

They could escape in one. Not a normal one, those didn’t have a hyperdrive. Would have to be an Interceptor, or… well. It was a small dream, but where would they go? They’d run once, already. Run from a childhood into adolescence, and now they were adults and they understood the galaxy much better. You couldn’t run forever, you would find there was no more space to run _in_ to.

“You love her, don’t you?” the younger man asks. Pilots use the female about their ships, more often than not. Kylo does not understand why, especially because not all pilots are interested in females. Or was that the point? They love their ships, in a way he can’t fully understand. Maybe it’s like how he loves his saber, but… different.  


“She’s beautiful, and she’s fast, and she’s deadly, and she’s **mine**.”   


Poe’s voice goes Krayt-rough, a possessive growl that a Wookie would kill to imitate. It sends a shudder down Kylo’s spine - cold and welcome - even if it isn’t directed at him. He likes the more possessive side of Poe, but normally when it applies to him. Now he has to share with the woman in Poe’s life, though his lover _did_ bring him to meet her, which must mean he’s the primary focus, right?

The look in Poe’s eyes when they both turn as one is - it’s - Kylo’s whole world suddenly shifts like a punch to hyperspace, and he doesn’t know how he can make that work like he does. One shift of eyebrows, one melting, chocolate heat and Kylo wants nothing more than to find some way to end up screaming out Poe’s name. It’d take some doing to conceal the sound from in here, but he’d find that way.

“Want to help me break her in?” Poe asks.  


“I assume you don’t mean… in _space_.”  


“No more than we already are in space,” is the smooth reply.  


So he brought him here for _that_? Not that he objects. Especially not if Poe will then spend every time in this ship thinking of him. Oh, hell no. Kylo runs his tongue over his lips, and quickly assesses the size of the ship. They might just manage it if…

“Can you make sure it’s completely turned off? I don’t want to sit on the sublights, or fire off torpedoes with my foot.”  


Poe smirks. “Already done.”

“Did you bring me here to seduce me?”  


“Kylo… would I ever dream of–”  


He doesn’t let him finish, moving with cool efficiency to kneel astride his lap, his thighs pressed into the sides of the seat, his neck bent so his head doesn’t hit the roof. Hands on Poe’s shoulders, he grinds himself down (and gets some flight apparatus to the kidneys as a result) and snickers at the lost look in Poe’s eyes. He must be in his element, right now: a lap full of Kylo, and a ship that’s now all his. 

Kylo is glad he lost his virginity. The joystick seems to want to become very good friends with him from behind, and he’d rather not be violated by Poe’s new mistress, thank you very much. And he most assuredly isn’t thinking about how you could have sex _with_ a ship. Nope.

Hands are already pushing under his robes, stroking over his lower back and little else. They don’t have room to properly undress, not like this, and so it’s going to have to be a quickie if they manage it to the end. He hisses at the contact, and tries to offer his throat for more vigorous suckles, but Poe is feeling chatty.

“What’s got you so amused, Lord Ren?”  


“The fact that your ship seems to want to make a bitch of me and steal me from you with the throttle?”  


“That’s my girl…”  


“Poe!”  


“What?”  


“Aren’t you upset that I’m now being molested against my will? That I’m being turned into your ship’s whore?”  


“You’re only a whore if you’re paid,” Poe reminds him, and them grabs hold of his hips and tries to rub Kylo back against the throttle. “Besides… maybe I get off on watching you?”  


“I’m not into - aaaah! - w-women…”  


“Does she feel like a woman to you?” Poe is amused, and Kylo is half-convinced he really does want him to fuck the ship.  


“I’m yours, not your damn ship’s!”  


“We share,” Poe teases. “And besides, it’s not like you can fly off with her and leave me…”  


That gets the pilot teeth in the throat, under the jaw, and Poe grunts in satisfaction, grinding him harder against him. They’re like a couple of horny teens (…well… Kylo still is…) and he shoves a hand into Poe’s groin and palms the heel firmly into the bulge there. He kneads, and his fingers work around the rising swell, and Kylo’s pleased when his lover starts to whimper, trying to fuck his hand, but mostly pinned in place.

“I don’t share,” Kylo reminds him. “Not like _that_. I love you, and only you. And if you’re going to leave me, now you have a ship…”  


The fingers on Kylo’s ass turn fierce, hard and unforgiving. “ **Never**.”

“Well, you might change your–”  


Poe clamps a hand over his mouth, silencing him, and that goes through him like - like - he doesn’t even know. One minute he’s horny and grinding and touching, the next it’s like some string’s been cut and he just goes _under_ , somehow. Under, and moans and doesn’t even lick the hand that gags him The arousal is still there, but the bulkhead has turned into a viewscreen, showing the depths of infinity.

Their eyes meet, and Poe’s gaze is unarguable. “I will _never_ leave you, Kylo. Not ever.”

The reassurance makes his spine turn to liquid gold, and his veins run hot with adoration. He nods, minutely, and doesn’t dare move another inch. He can’t. He _can’t_.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours, and that’s just how it is,” and the words Poe says feel like a pronouncement.  


Another nod, but his mouth remains covered, so he can’t respond. He breathes through his nose, his head slowly swimming. Not with lack of oxygen, or not because it’s not there. He’s just realised how slow the galaxy really is, how it only moves fast when Poe is there. Like everything else is treading water, passing time, and when Poe is close it all goes hyperspeed fast. 

The hand stays on his mouth, and Poe looks - his eyes are darker? Somehow. Like he’s enjoying this as much as Kylo is, or close. Kylo doesn’t think anyone could ever be as happy as he is, right now. Caught between that hungry, owning mouth and the hand that demands he listen… the thought of being so loved, so adored, so _special_ (really special), so **kept**  and _**beloved** … _His whole world snaps back into focus, like pieces of a puzzle clicking and showing the picture at last. He’s - this - Poe - Poe _owns_ him, and he wants that. Wants to belong, to be owned, to be his and his alone. It sounds good to his ears, it makes him feel safe, secure, _wanted_.

And it’s weird, because he’s just… sitting in Poe’s lap. In a tiny ship, which they can’t even fly out, and they’re hidden in plain view. Anyone could look deeply through the transparisteel when Kylo isn’t blocking them, or the sensors could register heat signs in them, or Snoke could… any number of people could find the unmasked Knight of Ren sitting on the newly-qualified pilot. They’re cramped, and fully dressed, and Kylo has never felt more bare, or more secure in his life.

Poe seems to feel it too, because he lifts his hand from his lips, and there’s a pause before his lover pulls him the last half-inch in for a kiss. It’s a rough, sure bite and a drag through against his own, licking ownership in. Kylo can feel it, and the weight of the moment, and the once-mouth-hand grabs and hold onto his hair. Poe pulls, making Kylo’s eyes sting, and uses his hair to make the Knight offer his throat. Teeth over skin that no one else will see, and he just moans louder. He wants, suddenly, for it to mark. For it to mar his skin, for a reminder to sit on his flesh and in his nerves for days on end. He wants Poe’s claim to be visible and visceral, and he isn’t averse to begging.

“ _Mark me_ ,” he whispers. “Claim me. Make me yours. Make me remember I’m yours.”  


Teeth press in, but then a suckle that drags his blood to the surface, and Kylo doesn’t know why the sting of it feels so good, but it does. It’s sharp, sharp and beautiful, and it doesn’t really hurt because it’s **Poe**. It should hurt, but it feels… just good, really. Amazing. 

“Poe…”  


“Show me your dick,” Poe gravels against his throat. “Show me how hard you are for me.”  


It’s not easy, but he pushes fabric away and tucks some of his robe under his elbow to get out of the way, and then grabs his cock, pulling it out of his underwear and putting a hand under it, so Poe can see for himself.

“Good. You want to show me how horny you are, babe? Want to show me how much you love me?”   


“ _Very_ , and **lots** ,” Kylo answers, and watches his face, waiting for - for - for _guidance_. He doesn’t want to do more without permission, he realises.  


“Show me how you wish I was touching you. Show me, and then if you do it right, you can catch your come and I’ll use it to fuck you. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”  


Which part? Because Kylo can’t pick a favourite, even as he nods like mad. They haven’t done it much, but he does love when Poe fucks him after he’s come. He loves being able to please him almost selflessly, to be used for his satisfaction, to memorise and enjoy the sensations without his own impending climax making his attention span wander, or hurry things along. “ _Yes_.”

He curls his hand around his cock, eyes on Poe’s. He goes fast - almost so fast it hurts - and slams against his balls when his hand goes back, trying to get himself off as quickly as possible.

“You like it like that? Hard? Fast?”  


“…like when… when _you_ go fast… like you need me so much, and… it doesn’t hurt when it’s you…” He stammers a little, forcing the words out. They sound deeper, more resonant.   


“You know I want you every which way, Kylo. Hard, fast, soft, sweet…”  


Why does that sound like the sexiest promise ever? His mind shorts, and he humps at his fist, trying to get himself to the edge, whimpering when it’s not quite enough. Even with Poe looking at him, even curled up on his lap, it’s… it’s…

“Poe…”  


“Want my hand?”  


He shouldn’t need it, but he does. He - reluctantly - nods, and then Poe slaps his fist away and grabs his cock and jerks it with rude efficiency. How does he manage it? Kylo doesn’t know. He has this magical ability to ramp his arousal past sensible in a heartbeat, and the Dark Jedi is bouncing, banging his head and shoulders into the roof of the TIE. If anyone’s looking, they might see it jiggle in its mooring, and he tries not to let anyone glance in their direction.

“G-gonna… gonna…”  


Another hand covers the head, and Poe nods. “Come for me, Kylo. Come for me, and then you can ride my cock like you’re flying, too.”

That’s enough, and he swears it’s because he’s a horny teen, nothing else. He spills into Poe’s fists, bubbling his approval and bliss and gratitude, then sits, panting for a moment. The climax is heady and sharp, the pulsing quick and just as fierce, leaving him shaking in its wake. The air is thick with the scent of his lust, and Kylo preens in delight.

“So beautiful,” Poe coos. “So, so beautiful.”  


Kylo grins, and starts to unfasten Poe’s flightsuit enough to grab his cock. He shoves his own pants down, lifting his robes, watching as Poe slicks his own cock with Kylo’s emissions. “For you. Only for you.”

Poe guides him down, seats him in his lap. The blunt, promising head presses against his unprepared hole, and Kylo squirms in an attempt to impale himself. It’s not so easy without some pre-work, but he knows he can do it if he wants it enough. He wants it. He wants it a _lot._ He wants that full, fat sensation. He wants the burn of stretching, the spread and the thickness, the way they’re as close as close can be. He _wants_ it. Craves it. Needs it. Needs it so badly.

“Gonna remember this. Every time I fly. Gonna remember what I’m flying for. Remember it’s all for you, Kylo. All for you.”  


That makes his balls ache all over, and he slams down to take him all the way inside. It does sting, does ache, does make his thighs tense. He wasn’t quite ready enough, but if he’d waited a moment longer…

“You always say you can fly anything,” Kylo says, hands on Poe’s shoulders. “Fly  _me_.”  


“Isn’t that my line, right now?”  


“A good pilot wouldn’t let up or down bother him.”  


“Point,” Poe agrees. “Better show you how good I am, then,” he says, and grabs hold of Kylo’s cock, using it like a throttle. 

It’s blissfully too much, and Kylo bounces with abandon in the small space, bracing with the Force, and he’s so damn glad he’s already come. He’d likely kick out a viewscreen if he was fucked full like this, and he yells in delight, riding out every slam down of his hips between Poe’s hands. It’s brutal, and short, and Kylo cheats a little by flaring the sense of arousal hotter in Poe’s head, making him come roughly. Hard, and sure, and then they’re a panting, half-dressed mess.

In a TIE.

They just deflowered Poe’s new ship. Yep.

Kylo grins: this was a _really_ good idea. He can’t wait until Poe gets _higher_ in the ranks. Think of the privileges, then!

“…what… other ships can you learn to fly?” he asks, against Poe’s jawline.  


His pilot chuckles. “ _All of them_.”


End file.
